Lonely
by ShayneScribbler
Summary: America's feeling alone in the world lately and it's put him in a funk. Maybe a healthy dose of Russia's cute-but-creepy can help him get back in the swing of things. RusAme, m/m fluff


Summary: America's feeling alone in the world lately and it's put him in a funk. Maybe a healthy dose of Russia's cute-but-creepy can help him get back in the swing of things. (Russia/America; originally written for a prompt on the kink-meme)

***I do not own Hetalia and this was not written for profit***

**Lonely:**

To put it lightly, Alfred F. Jones – the ever smiling, ever optimistic United States of America – was feeling kind of down. If he had to be completely honest, he was horribly depressed. Even during lunch break, with a burger in his hands, he had no appetite and couldn't bring himself to do more than stare listlessly at the delicious patty of beef.

It wasn't that anything terrible had happened lately. The global economy was still down, but what else was new? No, it was nothing political. However, as he glanced around the lunch room, his mood plummeted even further. It seemed as if lately, in reaction to the faltering economy, influx of natural disasters, and so on, nations were solving their own woes by finding consolation and a shoulder to lean on in each other. He could see his northern twin across the room hugging his bear and leaning against Prussia (sharing what Alfred _thought_ might be that fries dish of Matthews, with the gravy and cheese...pouline? Poutine? Whatever.)

Even England, who normally ate lunch with Alfred, was across the room with France. Not that they were cuddling...more like England was downing rum like water, bemoaning all his country's woes and France was using the opportunity to get in some good gropes.

All the Asian countries were over in a corner, Thailand and China playing some game over lunch while the others chatted quietly amongst each other or watched the game. Japan wasn't with them, but he also wasn't alone, helping Greece feed the five or six cats that he had brought to the meeting. In another corner of the room, North Italy was feeding pasta to a blushing Germany, Romano snarling at both the German ("Goddamned potato bastard!") and the Spaniard clinging to him. Austria was sipping tea a couple tables over, with a scowling Switzerland and a serene Lichtenstein, who was talking happily with Hungary.

Even creepy Belarus was with company, Ukraine braiding her sister's long hair while the younger girl intimidated the three shaking Baltics (Latvia was clinging to Estonia and staring determinedly at the floor).

Alfred was so caught up in his not-moping-I'm-the-amazing-America that he failed to notice the shadow that fell over him or the sudden drop in air temperature. He did notice, however, when his burger was removed from his hands and tossed back down onto the table. Alfred turned to glare at the beaming Russian towering over him.

"Hey! What do you think – !"

Alfred was cut off as the taller nation abruptly leaned down and caught his face, a cold tongue darting out to lick a long strip up over the American's left eyeball.

"The. HELL. Are you DOING!" Alfred yelled, pushing the now giggling Russia off of him.

"America looked so sad," the cold nation said simply, beaming down at the blonde. "I was just trying to distract you from sadness."

"By licking my eyeball?" Alfred demanded incredulously.

The whole lunch room had fallen silent, every nation watching the pair, waiting to see who would throw the first punch.

"America does not like?" violet eyes widened innocently, the creepy smile twitching at its edges. "I will try something else then."

The next thing Alfred knew, Russia was back in his face, this time pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek, going so far as to even make an exaggerated 'mwah' sound at the end. Instead of being pushed back by Alfred, the Russian was able to take his time standing back upright. This was mostly due to the complete shock and horror coursing through Alfred's system. At least, he told himself that the jolt in his heart and twisting in his stomach were from horror. Because it was Russia who had kissed him, and he was America...and America definitely doesn't like communist kisses, even if Russia wasn't actually communist anymore.

If possible, the room grew even quieter. Alfred glanced around quickly, cheeks burning in embarrassment. Matthew was half out of his seat, ready to come to his brother's aide. Even England had managed to push aside his drunken haze enough to watch the situation with trepidation.

Alfred finally managed to make a sound, even if it was just a sputter of disbelief, his body still frozen.

"America does not look well," Russia pointed out with concern etched across his face, but laughter dancing in his eyes. "Perhaps some fresh air?"

And Alfred was being hauled out of his seat and down the hall before anyone else in the room could move. Contrary to his assertion that fresh air would do America some good, Russia manhandled Alfred into a utility closet partway down the hall and pressed a hand to Alfred's mouth as alarmed yelling and running feet could be heard outside the door.

Alfred struggled briefly and managed to pull the hand from his mouth and push Russia off of him. It was entirely dark in the closet, but he could still feel the chilly presence of the other nation in front of him.

"What the hell is your problem?" Alfred demanded in a heated whisper, refusing to question himself on why he was keeping his voice down.

"America is sad, because he is all alone," Russia breathed in America's ear, making the shorter nation jump in surprise, unable to move away due to the enclosed space. Then, Russia pressed a kiss to Alfred's neck, and maybe the lips were cold, but the spot burned from the touch and Alfred swallowed back a small sound.

"I am also sad, always lonely, cold," Russia murmured, pressing another kiss, this one wet and open mouthed, the cool tongue that had licked Alfred's eye earlier returning to lathe a cold-hot-burning trail from ear to shirt collar. This time Alfred couldn't bite back the noise and an embarrassingly high-pitched moan filtered past his lips, morphing into a loud and even more embarrassing mewl when teeth bit down lightly.

"Together we would not be lonely, da?" Russia questioned softly, slowly tracing along Alfred's waist, tugging his shirt up so cold hands could splay across hot stomach.

"Mmmm...y-yeah...okay," Alfred stuttered, wondering how someone so cold could make him so warm. "B-but only if there's no...hmmm...no more eye-licking."

Russia laughed softly and brought his lips to rest against Alfred's.

"If you wish," he murmured and proceeded to kiss the shorter nation.

Alfred internally admitted that the feelings in his heart and stomach were from something considerably different from horror.


End file.
